


a good night's rest

by Winter_Lantern



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Nonbinary Character, Original Character(s), Other, Post-Canon, Rare Pairings, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25899133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winter_Lantern/pseuds/Winter_Lantern
Summary: the hunt has ended and yharnam is finally safe from the moon's presence. however the horrific events that happened over the course of that night still haunt hunter aurore's thoughts and dreams.luckily they are no longer as alone as they were during the hunt...
Relationships: Gilbert & The Hunter, Gilbert/The Hunter (Bloodborne)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 41





	1. DOORWAYS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after the hunt has ended, good hunter aurore has someone special they like to visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was requested by acridids-s on tumblr, thanks for the request buddy!!

The hunter walked the chilled Yharnam streets with the same careful tread they had grown used to. It might have been unnecessary, now that the town was free of the Paleblood Moon’s presence, but old habits did not quell easily. When they are so deeply ingrained into one’s sense of safety and well-being… it could be hard to let them go. To accept that perhaps they were no longer a necessity. 

Especially when the hunter was used to seeing these streets in quick, blood-spattered flashes as they ran. Eyeing the darkness for what it could be hiding, arms swinging as they cut their way through the hoards of beastly huntsmen. 

Now Yharnam was bustling with people. Clear-eyed, uninfected _people_. 

There were no longer monsters terrorizing the town, and there never would be again. There would be no more suffering under the scourge, no more harrowing Moon phases to trigger an accursed night of fear. 

No more reasons for hunters to exist… 

Somehow, that was perhaps the hardest thing for them to accept. Without the hunt, they were left purposeless - and _that_ was what made them sick to their stomach. The hunter knew that they should be happy. They should feel free and liberated and grateful that it was now all over! 

But they only ever felt _empty_. Like a stagnating pool, left behind as the stream changed paths. While everything around them grew and shined and brightened, they stayed stuck behind in their festering puddle. 

It was so hard to feel like a hero, like a true accomplishment had been achieved. 

Some days it was even harder to feel like a person. 

The memories of the Nightmare and the Hunt were so distant in their memory, tucked away like creatures hiding beneath riverbed stones, yet it still haunted them. Clung to them like a well-worn coat. Or another layer of flesh; perhaps that was the better analogy. After all, a coat could be shucked and hung up on a rack. Forgotten for a time, once it had found its proper place. 

The Hunt always lingered. No matter how many times they washed their hands, their body, their face, it clutched to them. 

(It was so damned hard to just keep existing – why did they have to suffer still? Had they not done their time? Had they not accomplished what no other hunter had before? All they wanted now was to stop having to survive and be allowed to _live_ – and even that was denied, kept from them by their own mind, their own hateful existence, a marring on this otherwise healthy world—) 

There was nothing that could get rid of the ominous feeling that lived inside their chest, but there were a few ways that they could alleviate it on rare good days. Being around other people as they were now certainly helped, even if those people were the uncaring, scowling Yharnamites. Being remembered helped. Even if it was something so small that it was almost unnoticeable. Someone giving them a second glance. Or a confused tilt of the head. 

It was rare when someone would look at them for a bit longer than necessary. Usually wary eyes would scan the hunter's face, trying to place where they had seen the hunter before giving up and moving on. Rarer still were the people whose eyes lit up with recognition when they saw the hunter. 

But there were a few, and the hunter made an effort to remain a constant in their lives... 

The Oedon Chapel’s dweller, who had cried when the hunter had returned and had all but collapsed into his gangly-armed hug. 

A little girl with the bright white bow, who would offer the hunter an even brighter smile and a wave whenever she crossed by them in the street. 

The crow who, despite her solitary nature, always seemed pleased to see them once more. 

Precious pieces of a life that – after so many endless nights – passed the hunter by here in the waking world. Little touchstones that had kept the hunter calm when the dark crept in too closely and the Moon still hung unnaturally large in that accursed night sky. 

All of them were still so important to the hunter now... Each had served as a reason to keep going, to keep pushing towards a better tomorrow for everyone; towards dragging this city out of the nightmare it had built for itself. Even after the hunt had ended, they were all still reasons the hunter could make themselves get out of bed every morning. 

Yet out of everyone, there was always one person they found themselves returning to over and over again. 

His door was a very familiar sight for the hunter; it was the very same door that they now stood in front of. It had been a place he had visited many times during the hunt, one of the lanterns being located so close to the front of the building and the helpful advice of the man inside bringing the hunter back to him time and time again. 

Now the hunter always returned just for the pleasant company. 

(It was so, _so_ nice to sit down and have a cup of tea with someone who remembered the hunt yet only spoke about benign things with them. Conversation topics like the weather or what the local shops were stocking worked as lovely distractions from the horrid memories that often wracked the hunter’s mind. Even if said memories would often crop up during those conversations, trying to derail them with vile thoughts and empty visions of what the hunter had done—) 

They raised their closed fist and knocked on the thick wood. In the moments that they stood waiting for an answer, they slipped their hat from their head, holding it in their hands. It was a gesture steeped in awkwardness – even after so many visits and long conversations, they felt uncomfortable when asking to be invited into his home. 

The door opened with a slight creak and the hunter glanced up. 

The owner of the house stood in the doorway, his frown brightening after seeing who was standing on his doorstep. A teasing remark about expecting one of the locals floated through the hunter’s mind, but he ignored it in favor of looking the man over. 

He looked… better than he had at the hunter’s last visit. Healthier certainly, with a little more meat on his bones, so to say. His hair was neater too – still a bit wild, but not the pitiful, ratty mess that it had been during the hunt. Perhaps most importantly, he was still on his own two feet. Something that the hunter knew he appreciated, after being confined to a chair for so many cycles. 

“Aurore,” the man rasped with an easy grin. “It is good to see you again – and so soon.” 

The hunter smiled, and a sense of peace quelled the nerves that clawed at their innards. “Hello, Gilbert.” 


	2. GOOD COMPANY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gilbert welcomes the good hunter into his home, where he can offer them comfort, warm food, and pleasant conversation for a distraction.

“Why don’t you come inside,” Gilbert said, stepping out of the hunter’s way. They thanked him as they entered his home and slipped their hat back onto their head. The house was warm, beating back the chill of the evening and lifting a weight off of the hunter's shoulders. As Gilbert closed and locked the door behind them, the hunter shed their coat and hung it up on the nearby rack. 

They could still recall a time not so long ago, when such an action would have caused them a great deal of anxiety. The number of times Gilbert had to assure them that, yes, they could hang up their coat, or sit down, or look at this or that was near uncountable – and even now the hunter half expected to make some error that'll cause Gilbert to kick them out. 

(It had been so long since they had owned _anything_. It felt like a sin to touch the belongings of another, as though their touch would leave behind the corruption of death that had stained their hands.) 

As the hunter straightened their coat on the hook, they felt eyes hover over them. They glanced up and froze when their eyes met Gilbert's. They stared at each other for a long moment, until Gilbert smiled at the hunter and his face softened into an expression of fondness. Which the hunter responded to by turning away with the speed of a startled animal, flustered and blushing as they removed their hat and placed it on the same hook as their coat. 

They didn’t dare turn back around, afraid of what they might have found on Gilbert’s face if they did. Instead, they continued to fiddle with their clothing in some foolhardy attempt at self-distraction. 

Thankfully they received no comment on their actions – although the hunter was sure that they could see Gilbert’s shoulders shaking in silent laughter out of the corner of their eye – and Gilbert stepped past them to lead them deeper into the house. 

The living room had a sense of comfort that the hunter was unused to. Thick knitted blankets laid over the plush couch, cushioned chairs sat near the dimly lit fireplace, items and trinkets were scattered all about the room in a way that managed to look cozy rather than sloppy. It was also much cleaner than the hunter remembered, and they knew that it was due to Gilbert's continued recovery from his infliction. They are grateful for it; it had pained them to see Gilbert confined to his wheelchair for that short period after the Hunt had ended until he had regained some of his strength. 

“How have you been?” 

“I’ve been well,” the hunter replied. “And you have been the same, I hope?” 

“Yes.” 

That was good to hear. The hunter stepped closer to the fireplace to study the pot that was hanging over the low fire. A liquid with chopped vegetables floating around in it slowly bubbled in its depths. 

“Just a simple tattie soup for tonight’s dinner.” Gilbert stepped up beside the hunter. He grabbed a spoon from atop of the mantle and dipped it into the soup to give it a stir. “Hope you don’t mind,” he added with a raspy chuckle. 

The hunter shook their head. “Anything you make is delicious. I just hope you don’t mind me coming over like this.” 

“Of course not!” Gilbert abandoning the spoon – which was just long enough to avoid dropping down into the soup – to turn towards the hunter and grasp their shoulder. “I could never mind! Aurore, I _enjoy_ having you here in my home.” 

Whatever words the hunter could have said in response came to a choked stop in their throat. The hunter swallowed in an attempt to free them, but the words still did not come. The place where Gilbert’s hand pressed into their shoulder burned, mimicking the hunter’s face as it heated up with a blush. They finally managed a nod to acknowledge Gilbert’s kindness. 

Gilbert beamed. “It’ll only be a little longer before dinner is ready. Would you mind getting the bowls from the kitchen?” 

They tried to respond, but their tongue was stuck to the roof of their mouth, so the hunter just managed another nod instead. Gilbert's hand was still on their shoulder and they could not stop thinking about it or the way it dried out their mouth. They weren’t even sure _why_ it held their attention so thoroughly. All the hunter knew was that when Gilbert finally removed it to turn back to the pot, they suddenly missed his touch. 

Embarrassed and confused, the hunter stepped around Gilbert and darted off to get the bowls. As they stepped into the kitchen, they took a moment to just stand there and breathe. Their face was on fire and where Gilbert had touched the hunter’s shoulder burned. 

And maybe if it _hurt_ , if it felt like a torch being shoved against their skin, they could tolerate it. Just ignore it until the feeling faded. Whatever this was felt – _felt_ _pleasant_. Like the touch of a friend or comrade or… or… 

The touch of someone who _cared_. 

Which was ridiculous – of course Gilbert cared! He had been one of the few to remember them after the hunt! What it was like when the skin you lived in didn't feel like your own, and when the only thing your body remembered was suffering without understanding why – Gilbert understood all of these similarities between them. Gilbert opened his home, his generosity to the hunter, all because he was a good man. 

Which was why the hunter couldn’t let him know that they harbored these… _feelings_. It just wouldn’t be right; Gilbert deserved better than that. They refused to be a burden on the man who had offered them so much when they had so very little. 

_Get it together._

The hunter took one final deep breath, held it, and by the time they released it they had pushed any risky thoughts deep down where they wouldn’t appear again… 

Hopefully. 

They grabbed the bowls from the nearby cupboard and quickly walked back out to rejoin Gilbert. He looked at them with a smile that relieved the hunter of any fear that their absence had been noticed. 

“Just in time,” he commented as he took a bowl from the hunter. He spooned a serving of the soup into it and then traded it with the empty bowl to repeat the process. As their hands slowly warmed from the heat of the bowl, the hunter made their way over to the couch and took a seat with enough care to keep their meal from spilling. They didn’t have to wait long for Gilbert to join them, and they both settled in to eat in silence. 

The hunter spooned up a bit of the soup and blew on it for a few moments before slipping the spoon into their mouth. They hummed loudly and turned to look at Gilbert, who was already watching them in return. “It’s amazing,” they muttered around the food in their mouth and Gilbert beamed at them. 

The conversation flowed easily after that – or rather, as easily as it could have. The hunter couldn’t blame Gilbert for any of it, oh no, every pause and slump in the conversation was certainly their fault alone. 

Eventually, dinner was finished, and the bowls were haphazardly left on the nearby coffee table so the conversation wouldn’t be interrupted by a trip to the kitchen sink. 

Being able to speak with someone else who could remember the hunt was nice, in a strange sense. It certainly helped ease the flow of conversation somewhat. Unfortunately, without any interruption the conversation continued on for much longer than the hunter had anticipated. They could see that night had fallen and it was likely well past sunset. The time had flown so fast they had barely even noticed it. 

But now that they had a sharp sense of nerves ripped through their belly. They had stayed much too long, and surely Gilbert had not meant for so much of his time to be taken up by them? 

Hands itching, the hunter stood up abruptly. “I should go.” 

They had barely managed to take a single step before a calloused hand grabbed their wrist. Startled, the hunter froze as Gilbert stood up behind them. 

“Aurore, are – are you all right?” 

The hunter wanted to respond. Wanted to tell him that they were fine. That they had just noticed how late it was, but their voice was choked off by their heart thundering in their throat—

Gilbert’s grip slowly loosened before his hand slipped from the hunter’s wrist. Silence stretched on, but the hunter didn’t dare turn around. 

“It’s awfully late. Are you sure you want to walk back?” 

_No._

The dark did not scare the hunter – it never had. But the idea of traveling through Yharnam's dark streets alone in the dead of night, made their skin crawl. Especially when this home (and its owner) were so warm and welcoming in contrast. 

Movement caught the hunter’s attention and they glanced up to see Gilbert stepping up beside them. He tilted his head so to look the hunter in the eye. “You don’t have to go… if you don’t want to.” 

“I—” 

_Don’t want to abuse your hospitality._

_Can’t make you put up with me for that long._

_Don’t want you to get tired of me._

The hunter closed their eyes to shut out the words. They hurt to have, hurt to acknowledge. It was the echo of a voice that had formed during and followed them well after the hunt ended. 

When they opened their eyes all they could focus on was Gilbert’s soft smile. 

They took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.” 


	3. LONELY NIGHT[MARE]S

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the hunter wakes up from a nightmare, but luckily they have gilbert their to help them through the memories it's left them shaking with.

The hunter wouldn’t say it, but agreeing to Gilbert’s request to spend the night did make them feel a little bit better. There was still apart of them that wanted to change their mind, to turn around and make a dash for the door before Gilbert could stop them – but it was easy to ignore as Gilbert refused their offers to help clean up before guiding them to where they would be staying. It was like a small weight had been lifted off their shoulders. 

Until they realized that there was only one bed. 

Gilbert’s bed. 

The realization made the hunter’s thoughts go fuzzy around the edges – as though the electrified claw of a Darkbeast has slapped them upside the head. 

“Well, ‘s not much, but it is the nicest surface to sleep on,” Gilbert said with a smile. “Trust me, I’ve found that out the hard way.” 

“What?” The hunter said as they came out of their stupor. “N-no! No, I… it’s your bed, I couldn’t possibly take it from you. I can just take the sofa.” 

“Aurore you’re my guest! I couldn’t possibly let you take the sofa.” 

“But this is your home. I can’t allow you to give up your bed, in your own home.” 

They were already intruding upon Gilbert. Forcing him to regale himself to the sofa downstairs isn’t something the hunter wanted to do. 

“We could compromise.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I was just… well, I mean. We could just—” The hunter’s heart swooped, their eyes drawn to the sharp points of Gilbert’s teeth digging into his lip as he spoke and – oh gods, was he _blushing_? “—share the bed.” 

The hunter blinked. 

“If that’s all right with you, that is!” Gilbert coughed. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t have said any of that.” 

“Yes.” And with that one word spoken into existence, the rest of the hunter’s thoughts pour out of their mouth rapidly. “I mean no! You’re – you – it’s fine that you offered, and I wouldn’t mind. So long as that is all right with _you_.” 

Gilbert’s lips curled upwards and a little, crooked smile appeared on his face. “Wouldn’t ‘ave offered if it wasn’t.” 

Oh. 

“Then it’s fine with me.” 

_Oh dear._

Where had _that_ sentence come from? Because surely the hunter’s mouth knew better than to just go blabbing without its owner’s consent. 

But before they could rectify their mistake by insisting that once again they should just take the sofa, Gilbert beamed at them. 

And oh, it was impossible for them to say no to that face. 

“You can take whichever side you want,” Gilbert said, unaware of the hunter’s internal plight. “I don’t mind. Oh! I should go and clean up the mess we left; I’ll be back in just a few minutes.” 

The hunter watched as Gilbert exited the room, staring into the space he had left through even after he was gone. 

What am I doing? 

The hunter sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out. They tried to imagine the stress of this strange situation they had found themselves in was leaving their body with their breath; it didn’t help. Briefly, they considered sneaking out through the nearby window but decided that such an effort would not go unnoticed and would be much more embarrassing in the long run since Gilbert would surely ask them about it. 

Well. 

It was too late to back out now. 

In a daze, they stepped over to the bed and gingerly sat down. As the mattress gave with their weight, the hunter found themselves half expecting the surface to just give way beneath them. It was unreasonably nerve-wracking. _It is just a bed!_ They tried reminding themselves. 

They propped one foot up on the opposite leg’s knee, removing that boot before repeating the motion with the other. 

_It’s just a simple bed, a piece of furniture…_ They stood up and set the boots down near the foot of the bed, where they would hopefully be out of the way. 

_That I’ll be sharing with_ Gilbert _._

A shiver ran through them, and they just tried to ignore their shaking hands as they lifted a corner of the blanket and sat down on the sheet-covered spot they exposed. Slowly, they shrugged off their waistcoat and folded it over the tops of their boots before unbuttoning only a few top buttons of their shirt. 

“Is that the side you want?” 

Startled, the hunter looked up to see Gilbert standing near the foot of the bed. Their throat constricted; they didn’t trust themselves to speak and so they nodded in response. 

Gilbert nodded back with a smile. “Well, feel free to make yourself comfortable.” 

The hunter did just that, thanking Gilbert before quickly pulling their legs up and tucking them beneath the covers so they could lie down. They faced away from Gilbert as they did so, not sure if they would be able to stand it if he looked at them. Especially with the heat that was creeping up their neck and onto their face. 

So they stared at the wall in front of them, trying and failing not to listen to Gilbert’s movements as he fiddled with a few items in the room before joining the hunter in the bed. The mattress creaked under their combined weight; the blush on the hunter’s face only deepened, much to their chagrin. 

It was impossibly not to be aware of how close they were to one another. The sheets and blanket may have been cool to the touch, but good gods – the hunter could feel Gilbert’s body heat from where he lied just a few inches away. 

Their hands twitched, some deep part of them wanting nothing more than to roll over and pull Gilbert against them, to bury themselves deep into that comforting warmth. The mere imagined image of Gilbert not only welcoming such an action but returning it! It’s enough to make the hunter shiver; anticipation thrummed just beneath their skin. 

It felt like their very bones were going to crawl out of their skin, so strong was their desire to get closer to Gilbert. 

Yet, they kept their hands tucked near their chest. 

With a silent sigh, they pulled the blanket tighter around them and shoved their feelings down, down, and further down still – where they would hopefully stay until the dawn. 

Because no matter how much they may have wanted, there was no way any of it would work out. That’s not how things happened for their kind, here in this town. They couldn’t ruin this. 

So instead of falling into the trap laid before them by their own traitorous heart, the hunter closed their eyes and tried to ignore the pounding of their blood in their veins. 

And somehow, against all odds, the hunter slowly drifted off to sleep. 

* * *

The world shifted and shuddered. Ever familiar cobblestone streets turned soft and warm, screaming died off into quiet snores, and the bright Moon melted out of the sky. 

And the hunter lied there, stiff and shivering, as the last vestiges of the nightmare faded into the background of their soft panting. 

It wasn’t real – couldn’t have been real – but their heart shuddered and thumped in their chest like it was clawing its way out of a cage. Fingernails ripped at the flesh of their rips, prodded their lungs—and the Moon melted still. 

They closed their eyes against the memories of pain long gone (maybe – hopefully – there was no way to tell if it was as long gone as they assumed) tried to calm their breathing to no avail. A weight pushed down on them, constraining them, and the hunter had to fight to push it off, struggling, only to realize that it was just the blanket that they battled against so desperately. 

With a newly freed hand, they pushed against their chest, trying and failing to get a grip on their breathing. 

(The hunt lasts forever, over and over and over again. An endless cycle towards no conclusion. Whatever happens, you may think it all a bad dream.) 

Their hands shook as they reached out, their fingers twitching when they brushed something familiar, something warm. 

The hunter looked towards the prone figure next to them, still sleeping peacefully, calm breaths expanding and deflating the man’s chest in a gentle rhythm. Fingers curled around the cloth of Gilbert’s sleeve while the hunter’s other hand slid forwards. It came to a rest on the man’s chest. 

Nothing strange could be felt. 

Even still, the hunter should have been comforted. They could see the man’s chest rising and falling with each breath he took – but it still wasn’t enough to quell the mounting panic in the hunter’s chest. 

The Moon had been killed in their Nightmare – but what if it was never true. What if they had failed, and this was just another cycle of the Dream? What if they had succeeded but brought back the hunter with them upon returning to the waking world? 

The thought lanced through their chest. They moved closer to Gilbert. Their arm wrapped around his waist and their head came to carefully rest on his chest. 

Lying there, still as a statue even as their hands started trembling, the hunter could hear the man’s heartbeat. It brought some comfort but not enough. Nothing would ever be enough. 

The man below them shifted and grunted questioningly as he began to wake up. “What…? Aurore, is that you?” A hand pressed against the hunter’s head and carded through their hair. “Is something wrong?” 

The hunter tried to respond, but couldn’t find their voice. Their lips wouldn’t move, their teeth remained clenched and their throat tight. Pulling Gilbert tighter against them, they tried to tell themselves that it was okay. That this was real and the Moon no longer haunted them. 

It didn’t help. 

After a long pause, Gilbert made a soft noise of understanding. The hand that wasn’t stroking through the hunter’s hair came up and pressed against their back with care. “’s all right, Aurore. You’re safe here.” 

He was right. _Of course_ he was right. 

If only the hunter could make themselves believe him. 


	4. IN THIS EARLY TWILIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the actual gilbert/hunter post-nightmare comfort fluff starts here for real... and uh pretty much continues on until the end of the fic haha

No matter how hard they try, the hunter just cannot seem to gather themselves enough to speak. 

For a while it feels like they’re crumbling; just shattering and being rebuilt over and over again in Gilbert’s arms. They don’t even realize that they’re crying until their breath catches on the beginnings of a sob and wet tears fall down their cheeks. 

And Gilbert, gods bless the man, just held them tighter. He doesn’t complain or shift about restlessly like he’s waiting for the moment he’ll be able to scoot away from this unstable mess of a hunter. 

They’re grateful for it. But it doesn’t keep them from gnawing at their lip, trying to quell their own raging emotions, because the faster they stop blithering, the sooner they can let Gilbert go. Let him get back to sleep, which he needs – gods, it’s what they _both_ _need_ – and if they could just get. Themselves. _Together_. Then perhaps they would both be able to get back to the world of dreams. 

Only the hunter can’t make themselves pull away and fake a smile for him. Their dreams were what put them in this position, and they do not want to go back there. Not while everything is so fresh in their mind, still so real. 

They couldn’t go back to that, nor could they pretend that everything was fine. 

It was a lingering curse that the Dream had placed on them, even now, so long after they had been there – so long after it had supposedly ended. They have often wondered about how long the Hunt will continue to haunt them, and they still have no clear answer. But tonight will certainly not be the start of any kind of recovery. 

With a final sniff, they gained some semblance of control over themselves, enough that they felt comfortable with pulling away from Gilbert. When they do there is a rather obvious wet spot on the shoulder of his shirt. They wiped at their face with the back of their hand, and croak out, “I’m sorry.” They could not even bear to look at the stain they have left on his shirt, so they curled back against his chest. 

Gilbert made a noise of dissent and ran his hand through their hair. It barely even registered to the hunter, who is focused on the heart pounding next to their ear. It helped ground them, reminding them that Gilbert is _here_ and _alive_. 

They repeated themselves, unsure of what precisely they were apologizing for, “I’m so sorry.” 

“Hush, my dear.” He carded a careful hand through their hair. “There is nothing to apologize for.” 

“I don’t know why I keep doing this.” They grasped at the soft cloth of Gilbert’s shirt, wrinkling the material between their fingers as their hands curled into fists. “Why can’t I move on? Forget everything that happened and just be normal?” 

Gilbert shifted his grip, his hand cupping the back of the hunter’s head. “You went through so much Aurore. More than anyone has ever had to go through, from my understanding. Hell, even most other hunters cannot boast the same horrors you witnessed.” The hunter shut their eyes tight, and uncomfortable feeling churned in their gut at the kind words. Gilbert continued. “Don’t blame yourself for something that cannot be helped.” 

“I’m trying…” But are they? Are they _truly_ trying to not blame themselves? They had done all they could during the Hunt – everything that they felt they could have done – but it had not been enough. Not until that last dream, when they had broken free and hopefully brought Yharnam along with them. 

But the events still haunted them. _Still_ kept them up at night; kept them from being able to keep their curtains open when the Moon was full. 

The sight of Gilbert’s body, broken and bloodied and changed, lying on the cobblestones as the hunter cut him down – first because he did not know, and later because he couldn’t stand to watch the man suffer such a fate. Even later, when the hunter had just started avoiding that area entirely once the night ran on too long, he still feared for the man-turned-beast’s safety. 

Gilbert wrapped his arms around the hunter and pulled them close. The action should have made the hunter stiffen – it was much too similar to how so many of the monsters had snatched them up before crushing their bones or ripping at their limbs. But the way Gilbert held them was filled with such an easy tenderness, it is all the hunter can do to lean into his grasp. 

“One person cannot carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. No matter how much they might try,” Gilbert whispered. The hunter could feel his breath brushing against their ear. It was pleasantly warm and the hunter carefully slid their hands from Gilbert’s chest to wrap them around his waist. Gilbert sighed as they did so and nuzzled into the top of the hunter’s head. “Let it go, my dear…” 

Aurore sniffed. “I can’t.” 

It was easier to say that than the truth, than admitting to not knowing how to let _anything_ go. Or worse, of trying and realizing it was too twisted into their psyche. That there was no line where the Hunt ended and Aurore began. 

That they would always be a hunter. 

Gilbert just tightened his grip on them and said, “Then share it. Let me carry some of your burdens.” 

The thought alone made the hunter flinch. 

It was an impossible request. A demand for the hunter to willingly corrupt the one thing they had left in this world that made them truly happy. 

“No...” It sounded less like a refusal and more like a plead. 

“I can see how much this hurts you. Watching you suffer, it’s—” Gilbert has to stop and take a breath. The hunter feels a calloused thumb brush their cheek, wiping away a tear. “This stress you’re living with, it’ll kill ya. And the thought of living without you is the only thing worse than feeling myself turn into a monster.” 

“I don’t want to tell you and have you ruined by it.” 

“I might be frail, but I’m no wilting flower. I can handle it, dear hunter.” Hands cupped the hunter’s face, and gently pulled them into lifting their head so Gilbert could look them in the eye. “You have to trust me.” 

Cracks are forming in their once firm resolve. Deep down they know that Gilbert is right, that there is only so long they can live with this strain. But – but! – can they live with themselves if they spew their poison onto Gilbert and he suffers for it? 

Slowly, Gilbert tilts forwards, until their foreheads are touching. “You can _trust_ _me_.” 

The dam breaks. 

New tears flood the hunter’s eyes. 

They lift their hands – so slowly – as if a single to quick movement will break whatever spell is being weaved between them – and place them over Gilbert’s. 

“I trust you. But I can’t… I can’t…” They shook their head as tears flowed thickly down their face. 

“You don’t have to, not tonight. But I want you to just think about it.” 

Calloused thumbs stroked the hunter’s face, offering some comfort. They cannot verbalize how much they appreciated the gesture. 

How much they appreciated _this_. 

So when Gilbert asked them to promise that they’d think about it, all they can do is nod. 


	5. SOLACE IS A SUNRISE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the final chpt of this fic! gilbert and the good hunter aurore share a special moment together watching the sun rise up over yharnam.

The next time the hunter opened their eyes the bedroom was brighter. Blinking their eyes, they carefully pushed themselves up onto an elbow, careful of the arm draped over their waist, and glanced around. There was indeed a faint light coming in through the windows, bathing the room in a soft glow. 

Despite everything, morning had come. 

They reached up and rubbed at their eyes with the heel of their hand. Even after their talk with Gilbert, restful sleep had evaded them, although the nightmares had not returned. Small blessings shouldn’t be frowned upon, the hunter supposed. 

It was still so early that the town outside was still quiet. No footfalls or creak of a carriage wagon’s wheels could be heard beyond the walls of Gilbert’s home. Just how early they had woken up was a mystery to the hunter – they had not been one for early sunrise mornings and the Hunt had done nothing to help with that. 

Sleep still tugged on the edges of their conscious and they found themselves wondering if they could get a few more hours of rest in before they had to get up. Perhaps Gilbert would even be up soon? They hadn’t the foggiest idea of if the man preferred to sleep in or not. 

Well, it couldn’t hurt to find out. They slid back down onto the mattress, trying to get into a comfortable enough position while not disturbing Gilbert’s rest. Slipping the blanket back up over their shoulders. 

They pressed gentle fingertips to Gilbert’s chest, taking refuge in the steady rise and fall of his chest and the beating of a strong heart. 

The skin beneath their fingers twitched and the hunter froze, worried that their touch had been too much, but Gilbert only exhaled softly and shuffled a bit in his sleep. The arm that was so loosely draped over the hunter’s waist tightened, pulling the two closer together before Gilbert settled back down into a deep slumber once again. 

The hunter’s heart fluttered in their chest. 

For a long moment, they lied there. Just… absorbing the comforting warmth that Gilbert encompassed them in. Appreciating this quiet moment that by some miracle they were still alive – still allowed to – take part in. It felt too good to be real, and yet there was no denying that all of this was very much reality. 

For the first time in a very long while, the hunter sucked in a deep breath and as they exhaled, forced their muscles to truly relax. 

It wasn’t easy and took more concentration than they thought it would. Each time they took their mind off of their own body, they would slowly start to tense back up and have to start the process all over again. To be so relaxed felt… unnatural to the hunter. 

They sighed, annoyed with themselves for what they could not help, but decided that dwelling on it would be a pointless venture. Instead, they shifted their focus from themselves to the man in front of them. Gilbert’s presence was one of warmth here in this softer world beneath the blankets. Warmth. It had been something that the hunter had been lacking lately. Ever since the Hunt had begun… perhaps for even longer than that. 

It was something that they had craved, deep down. It was also something they were reluctant to indulge in, for fear that once they grew to appreciate it, it would be snatched away from them. Leaving them colder than when they had not had that warmth in the first place. 

Yet, here in this quiet moment, they could not resist its pull. The texture of the material beneath their fingers, the comforting heat that radiated off of Gilbert’s body – it was too much for the hunter to make themselves pull away. 

Perhaps they were just too tired to fight their instincts, but this – the enjoyment of this soft, warm moment – was worth the risk. 

The hunter sighed, curling their head forwards so their forehead rested against Gilbert’s chest. A quiet chuckle pulled them from their thoughts and the hunter leaned back and looked up. 

Gilbert was looking back at them, eyes barely cracked open. “G’ morning,” he said with a smile. 

The hunter could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest where their hands still touched. Which might have been strange for the other man, but they didn’t feel like moving their hands. So they didn’t – and were relieved when Gilbert didn’t complain. 

“Good morning.” The hunter let their eyes drift shut. “How long have you been awake?” 

The felt Gilbert’s laugh rumble through his chest before they heard it. “Not long. You’re not much of a morning person, hm?” 

“Not usually.” The hunter cracked open an eye. “What about you?” 

“Ah, about the same truth be told. Though the sunrise is usually quite a sight.” 

The hunter hummed. “Can’t say that I’d know. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a sunrise.” 

When Gilbert didn’t immediately respond, the hunter assumed that the conversation was over and let their eye slip shut again. They slipped back into that relaxed place between sleep and alertness easily enough and they floated there for what felt like hours until Gilbert shifted, jolting them back to full alertness. 

They peered up to see the man propped up on an elbow, staring back down at the hunter. “That’s right. You’ve been away from the sun for quite a while. Although, I suppose all of us have, really.” 

The hunter pursed their lips. “It has, hasn’t it?” 

They couldn’t be entirely sure how long they had been trapped in the Dream. Someday it was as if no time had passed at all, while other times it seemed as if the hunter had been ripped from time for decades. It had been hard for them to find solace in the solidarity of others even before the hunt, and now people felt completely foreign. The only people the hunter could really stand to be around for any prolonged amount of time were the few who remembered them from the hunt. 

How ironic, that their efforts had been to save all of Yharnam from the horrors that the Moon held and only a scant few could avoid filling the hunter with such dread that they would turn reclusive. 

“I’m sorry.” The hunter looked up at Gilbert as he spoke. “I hadn’t meant to remind you of that.” 

“It’s all right, Gilbert. You didn’t mean to.” They shifted, rolling over onto their back to stare up at the ceiling. “Besides, it’s not as if it ever leaves me. I still carry the Hunt wherever I go. I fear that it is a part of me now.” 

The brush of fingers over their hand brought their attention back to Gilbert. Their eyes met Gilbert’s and the hunter flinched when he saw the warmth that was in his gaze. Face flushed, they looked back up at the ceiling and tried to push the thought out of their mind. Surely it had just been a trick of the light in this dark room? Yes, that must have been it. 

Their attention was so focused on avoiding those thoughts, they didn’t even notice Gilbert smiling at their antics – or the way his eyes widened as an idea came to him. 

“Come on,” Gilbert said and nudged the hunter, who groaned at the loss of warmth. “Let’s get up.” 

“So soon?” The hunter rolled onto their side, looking up at Gilbert balefully. “Hadn’t we just agreed that neither of us were early morning people?” 

“Yes, but there is something that I want to show you.” Gilbert slipped on his shoes with a backward glance spared towards the hunter. “And before I show you, I’d like to get some coffee to help us wake up.” 

The hunter made a face. “Do you have any tea?” 

Gilbert glanced up at the hunter, a smile playing at his lips. He leaned over the bed, a hand touching the mattress close to the hunter to hold himself up as he replied. “Tea is for people who can get up on their own.” 

A groan slipped past the hunter’s lips, quietly enough that they didn’t think the man would notice – until they heard him chuckling that is. “All right! I’m getting up…” 

They tried not to notice the soft smile Gilbert wore as he back up, giving them space to stand up. Not that they were in a rush to do as they said they would; despite their announcement, they took their time with pushing off the covers and slipping out from the bed. 

Their joints popped as they stood up, loud enough that even Gilbert could hear it from where he stood. 

The immediate loss of warmth made them shiver, a desire to just crawl back under the covers and go to sleep pulled at them. 

_Tea is for people who get up on their own_. They shook their head and smiled. 

It only took a second for them to find and slip on their boots, and then they were following Gilbert down the stairs and back into the kitchen. The room was slightly brighter than it had been in the evening darkness of last night. It certainly seemed cozier. 

As Gilbert opened a door, the hunter looked over his shoulder. It was a pantry, filled with jars, small boxes with foreign words printed on the sides, and bottles of oils and spices. 

“Hmm. Well, it seems that I only have chamomile. Is that all right?” 

“Yes.” 

Gilbert nodded and set aside two small canisters. 

As he closed the pantry door, the hunter noticed the nearby kettle resting on a shelf. They lifted it and held it out to Gilbert, who had turned to face the hunter. 

“Oh, thank you, Aurore.” He took the kettle from them and set it down in the sink, filling it with water. “The mugs are in that cabinet there if you wouldn’t mind grabbing two.” 

The hunter stepped towards the cabinet the man had indicated, opening the door and eyeing the mugs. After some debate, they pulled two from the cabinet – a soft yellow colored one for Gilbert and a deep blue one for themselves. 

The cups made a soft _clacking_ noise as they set them down next to Gilbert’s elbow. The sound grabbed the man’s attention, and the hunter scooted the yellow one a tad bit closer to him. He smiled and nodded in understanding. 

The hunter watched as Gilbert stepped over to the oven, turning on and lighting the gas before settling the kettle over its flame. He then turned his attention to the tins, pulling a nearby drawer open just long enough to pull out a large spoon and a ball infuser. 

Oddly enough, the hunter found themselves transfixed by the way his hands moved as he prepared their drinks. Strange thing to be fascinated by, but the hunter saw no harm in simply observing for a little while. Especially when Gilbert seemed content to work in silence. 

His hands were so sure as they moved, scooping loose tea out of the tin and into the infuser, firm fingers shutting the ball before placing it into the blue mug. The hunter thought about those hands and how they had held them so carefully last night. How warm and stable his grip had felt as he talked them back down to reality. 

(Kindness was such a rarity now, especially for people like them. Even now, after the hunter had done so much for the city of Yharnam its citizens rebuked them. They almost couldn’t blame them – they didn’t know what horrors the hunter had experienced – but the lack of care from them made Gilbert’s care all the more obvious, all the more kind.) 

“Aurore…?” 

They shook their head and looked at Gilbert. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” 

“I asked what you were looking at.” Gilbert smiled and opened the other tin, scooping out a spoonful of ground coffee. “You were staring.” 

“Ah.” Oops. “Sorry, I was just deep in thought about something. About last night.” 

Gilbert’s smile fell and he hummed. He dumped the grounds into the yellow mug, set the spoon aside, and then closed both of the tins. 

A sharp panic tugged at the hunter’s chest. They raised their hands as if to ward off a physical threat. “N-not anything to do with you, really – or, rather, nothing negative or anything of that sort!” 

“Was it about your nightmare?” 

Yeah. Sure. Let’s go with that. The hunter nodded. 

“You know, what you said about not seeing the sunrise made me think about something…” Gilbert trailed off as he glanced at the hunter, who tilted their head in a request to continue. “It occurred to me that I really only see you out and about in the evenings and, well, perhaps this is none of my business, but do you… only travel when it’s dark nowadays?” 

The hunter blinked. That hadn’t been what they were expecting to hear. They considered his words, wondering if they could think of a recent time when they had been out and about during the daytime. Nothing came to mind easily. “You know, it’s not something I’ve considered, but I think I do.” 

Gilbert nodded slowly and moved to place the tins back in the cupboard. 

Something about him seemed so off – pensive, even. “Is… something the matter?” 

“I suppose I just worry about you. Sunlight is important for a person.” He smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “I know you can take care of yourself, of course! It’s just a… habit I seem to have formed, unfortunately.” 

“It’s been some time since someone has asked after my wellbeing.” The hunter shifted from one foot to the other, awkwardly. “Thank you.” 

“It’s no trouble.” 

The hunter felt like they should say something as silence stretched on between them, not quite turning awkward but skirting the line just enough to still feel uncomfortable. Not that they had even the foggiest idea of what they should say – not when Gilbert still seemed so tense. 

The loud screech of the kettle pulled Gilbert’s attention away and they almost breathed a sigh of relief. Moving closer, the hunter watched his hands as he set about pouring the water and preparing the beverages. When Gilbert tilted his head questioningly towards the jar of sugar cubes, the hunter held up two fingers. 

The man was so neat when he worked, the hunter thought, so calm and quick with his hands. Even with an audience! If someone had been staring over the hunter’s shoulder while they tried to do something they would be a mess. It’d be a miracle if they managed their task without tripping or spilling something at least once. 

When their mug was handed to them, they took it in both hands. As the exchange was made, the hunter couldn’t help but shivered when their cool fingers made contact with Gilbert’s. They were so warm to the touch, either by his internal temperature or the heat from the mug, the hunter couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to take his hands in their own. 

It would be so easy. Just set the mug down and take his hands in a careful grip. One that would be easy to escape from if that’s not what Gilbert wanted. 

The image was pleasant, but the hunter didn’t move to act on it. The moment passed by with no one aware that it had even happened except them and they were all right with that. It was something that they just wanted to hold onto for themselves, in the safety of their mind where there was no risk. No chance of it ending with Gilbert awkwardly removing his hands from their grasp. 

Instead, as Gilbert picked up his mug, they asked, “What do you want to show me?” 

“Nothing too special, really.” He turned towards the hunter and ushered them back out of the kitchen room and back towards the stairs. Arching an eyebrow, the hunter followed him back up – but instead of reentering the bedroom, Gilbert continued down the hall until he stood before a single door. “It’s just something I think you might appreciate.” He opened the door, and stepped inside, holding it open for the hunter to enter in after him. 

They had never seen this room before when visiting Gilbert’s house, and their eyes roved over every surface. It looked like a sitting room or a small library, with a few shelves pressed against one wall and the rest of the room sparsely covered in two-seat couches and pillowed chairs. 

Gilbert walked across the room and the hunter followed him. The room was lovely in a strange way; not something they had expected to see here in this house. 

While they were distracted, Gilbert pulled open a wide curtain, revealing a sudden, bright light to the room. The hunter raised a hand to protect their eyes, and slowly lowered it after blinking all the spots from their vision. Their eyes widened as they looked out the window towards the bright glow of the sun rising over Yharnam. The way that the low sun just barely peeked around a few of the lower rooftops, sending light dapplings across the river’s surface and in the shallow puddles that muddled the otherwise dry streets. 

“Sorry about that,” Gilbert muttered sheepishly, “probably should have warned ya before blinding ya.” 

“It’s beautiful.” 

And it was. 

They couldn’t remember the last time they had looked out onto the city and felt filled with something other than fear. 

Had they ever seen something other than that in this town? 

There was some beauty to be found here – in the smile of a little girl, the embrace of a strange man, the calm conversation of an old mentor. 

(In a fellow outsider’s warmth.) 

“Here, help me move this seat closer to the window.” 

Together they managed to scoot the seat a few feet from the window at an angle that would offer them a good view but wouldn’t cause them to be blinded by the sun’s various reflections. Gilbert sat down first with his mug of coffee gripped in his hands, and after a long pause, the hunter followed suit. 

It was strange but, even after spending the night curled up against his side, it felt so strange to now sit next to him. They were not even touching – the hunter had been sure to leave an appropriate amount of space between them on the sofa – but a blush was threatening to creep up their neck and up onto their cheeks just the same. 

They turned their head to look at Gilbert, to tell him how much they appreciated this and found that the man was already looking back at them. The hunter’s breath caught in their throat as their eyes met; their first instinct was to look away, to turn their head back towards the window. 

But they don’t, instead holding the man’s gaze with their own. 

A slow smile spread across Gilbert’s lips, his gaze full of warmth. A shiver ran down the hunter’s spine. 

(But they still don’t look away.) 

The hunter felt themselves return the expression, their lips twitching and curling upwards at the edges. 

“Lovely view, isn’t it?” Gilbert asked, eyes not even flickering away from the hunter’s face. Their stomach swooped. 

“It is.” 

Gilbert’s smile widened enough for a hint of teeth to peak out between his lips. The hunter felt themselves being drawn in by the sight, and it seemed as though Gilbert felt the same. Neither of them even seemed to notice how they leaned in towards the other until they were only a few scant inches away. 

Then the hunter blinked and Gilbert’s eyes widened as they each realized what was happening, and the spell was broken. 

“Oh – ah, I’m sorry,” Gilbert began, his hands fiddling with each other in his lap as his eyes darted from the hunter to the window and then the ground. “I shouldn’t have – I mean, I should not have invaded your personal space like that. I wasn’t trying to…” 

The hunter listened to Gilbert ramble on, with their body still leaned towards him. They nearly trembled with anticipation, like a string drawn taut and not allowed to relax. Left to dangle on the precipice of _something_ – whatever this was between them that was so desperate to bloom. 

They wanted this. They wanted him – and Gilbert wanted them in return. How could they deny it, when the fact of their mutual interest was staring them right in the face? When Gilbert had been leaning in just as they had? 

_Oh, gods damn it all._

They threw themselves towards Gilbert, wrapping their arms around Gilbert’s neck and pressing their lips together. He grunted in surprise, the noise muffled between their mouths – but before the hunter’s anxiety could clutch at their throat, Gilbert leaned into them, reaching up to grab the hunter’s shoulders. 

And oh, the _relief_ that flooded through them when Gilbert reciprocated almost had them melting in his grasp. His touch was so warm, so comforting – everything that the hunter had ever wanted. Their eyes slid closed as they lost themselves in the kiss. 

It was such a simple, chaste gesture, but it had the hunter seeing _stars_. 

When they finally pulled apart for air, the hunter opened their eyes. Gilbert stared back, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. The rising sun was high enough to come in through the window proper; the light caught at the edges of Gilbert’s hair, turning the dark locks into a glinting halo that wrapped around his head. 

“You’re beautiful,” the hunter muttered, barely even aware of what they were saying. 

Gilbert smiled, a blush warming his face. “So are you.” He brushed the back of his fingers against the skin of the hunter’s cheek. “You don’t know how long I’ve thought about doing that, Aurore.” 

A shallow laugh escaped the hunter’s chest, and a smile cracked across their visage. “Believe me, I think I do.” 


End file.
